It’s that time of year again. No, I don’t mean tax time … I’m talking porn time.

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Over the past month, I’ve holed myself up to watch porn—lots and lots of porn as part of a jury for the Feminist Porn Awards. This is my second year doing it; you can read about my experience from last year here.

It’s been fun, but it isn’t easy watching porn back to back, or front to back, or side to side, or upside down for that matter—so many positions to keep track of. ;) Okay, I jest, but it’s hard work that has some perks.

I reviewed approximately thirty movies and twenty websites, rating them on their level of erotic appeal and whether I saw anything groundbreaking or exceptional. The nominees this year were excellent and reconfirmed for me there are as many sexual preferences as there are people.

Like this:

Xavier Axelson is an erotica author I connected with recently who writes in the M/M genre. His work has been described as compelling and edgy, and his latest book, Earthly Concerns is due out shortly. Please give him a warm welcome as he provides more details about his new book.

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Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. His columns include interviews with counterculture celebrities, artisans, singers, writers, performance artists, politicians, and activists. While his writing has been called, “raw, dirty, and absolutely beautiful,” Xavier hopes to push boundaries of what is expected in the M/M erotic genres.

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Earthly Concerns is an erotic nightmare, with a fable element. It really is a story about the power of generosity, generosity of spirit and the price of selfishness. While there is an erotic romance involved, there are forces at work in the story that scare me and hopefully will frighten readers too.

Between love and loss, there is obligation…

It was a peaceful night when Barrett and his daughter were driving home… then something happened. Something sinister.

Between shadow and light, there is uncertainty…

Now the only person Barrett can turn to for help is Anson, a man gifted with psychic abilities beyond reason. But Anson is also his ex-boyfriend, a man whose heart he’d already broken.

If you can see, you have to help.

As Anson delves deeper into the circumstances surrounding Barrett’s accident, he begins to realize that he’s not only in a race against time, but in a battle against his own broken heart and the terrifying understanding that whatever has taken Barrett’s child is a force of evil beyond anything either man has ever encountered.

How could I just go over, and if I did, would I just be stumbling back into the pit of snakes I had just narrowly escaped the first time? I thought this and a hundred other dangerous thoughts until I saw him begin to stand up. I waved him down, then went over and sat down.

Apparently, I thought the best course of action was to dive right in, avoid any further uncomfortable thoughts from belching up from the cesspool that I was creating in my skull.

“Tell me everything,” I blurted, trying to avoid looking into his eyes.

“You look good, all hot and cute,” he said, trying to maintain his smile, but the weight of his sadness was too intense. Instead, he managed a pained grimace.

“Thanks.” I wanted to say more, return the compliment, but found I couldn’t; he was a keen listener and would be able to detect any false sentiment I might throw out. I stared down at the menu and tried to ignore my heart, which had once again taken up its incessant thrumming.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

I didn’t look up, but could feel him staring at me.

When the waitress came over, we ordered. Without the menu to stare at, I looked up and past him.

“Anson.” He said my name like it was some sort of invocation.

Did he believe he was dreaming? I could only imagine the nightmare of not knowing where your child is and if she would ever come back.

“It’s unreal,” he said, this time looking away from me, his eyes glistening. “I’m not sure I know what’s happened.”

The waitress arrived with two small cups of clear broth with some vegetables in them and refilled our waters.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes riveted on him. I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from him in the same place I had met him once before; the day he wanted to return a t-shirt I had left at his place after one of our interludes.

Even now, looking beaten and tormented, the man somehow managed to provoke me in ways other men hadn’t. I saw him as beautiful and felt my stomach lurch. I looked at his brown eyes that I remembered looking gold in the sun, and his oddly handsome face. Not a traditionally good looking face, but handsome in a bookish, learned way. I felt my body begin to respond.

Congratulations, Xavier on your new book! I wish you every success with it, eden

This post contains words that may offend you. You’re an adult, proceed as you will.

I’m a lover of words—lyrics in songs, words in books, spoken word. I play word games, wince when someone mispronounces a word or uses an incorrect one, and I correct people’s grammar when they speak. In a word, I’m a snob. That doesn’t mean, however, I only use “polite and proper words.”

Words are fun for me. It’s a challenge to use the perfect words economically in any written piece. I write not to be misunderstood, rather than to be understood. There is a difference—subtle as it may be. As a writer of erotica, this is further complicated as sexuality has always been a taboo topic–one that can repulse, fascinate, and arouse. There are thousands of sex-related phrases and words in the English language ranging from the polite and poetic to the explicit and offensive. I’ll muse on a few points.

Are “bad” words always going to be bad words?No, not according to history.

In 1966, the pioneer “bad boy of words,” comedian Lenny Bruce was arrested for saying nine words: ass, balls, cocksucker, cunt, fuck, motherfucker, piss, shit, tits. In the seventies, comedian George Carlin had a whole routine based on “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television.” They were the last seven words in the list used by Lenny Bruce. Now, you can turn on the TV and listen to the radio at almost any time of day and hear these words. Depending on its context, you’ll either laugh, be turned on, or be offended.

Words are organic. They grow with the times and take on new meaning. Today, words like cocksucker, fuck, shit are commonplace in literature of almost every genre. Have we become immoral beings who’ve allowed these “bad” words to infiltrate the language? I don’t think so. I think it’s a combination of things which could include a more tolerant society and the fact that overuse of some of these words have weakened their impact.

Lenny Bruce arrested after saying the nine “bad” words.

How do words take on their meanings? We give power to them based on our own experiences.

I love the word cunt and use it in my writing. I consider it a beautiful descriptor for the female genitalia. Put it in a different context, and it becomes the most offensive of epithets. The same word elicits both sensuality and vulgarity? How does that happen? It’s clearly not the word, but the volition or intent behind the writer or speaker or listener that affords the word its power … which brings me to the other “c” word that’s a hot topic currently—censorship.

By now, you’ve probably heard about the controversy surrounding the online payment company Paypal. It’s forcing online publishers such as Smashwords to remove all content containing bestiality, rape, and incest under the threat of withdrawing their service. Erotica writers were targeted. I received a letter from Smashwords saying if I had such content, I’d have to remove my book from their site. Though I don’t write on these topics, the issues are far reaching and do not just affect erotica authors, even if we are the ones singled out at the moment. Think about it, if they were self-publishing today, others who would’ve been censored by Paypal’s decision would include: Vladamir Nabokov, Brett Easton Ellis, the Marquis de Sade, and whoever wrote the Bible.

Shame on you, Paypal. You are a third-party financial institution. You’re not my mother or my moral conscience. Don’t tell me what I can or cannot read, or what I can or cannot write. I can make that decision for myself, thank you very much.

I’m an atheist. Would it be okay if I banned the bible?

Update: Less than 24 hours after I posted this, Paypal has announced they are reversing their position. Maybe they heard me ranting?

Can similar words be used interchangeably and mean the same thing?Yes, but they won’t feel the same.

Take the male genitalia, as an example. I’m convinced there are more words for this body part than for any other word in the English language. As my writing has matured, I rarely use anything other than cock. It’s the one that feels most natural, rolls off the tongue easily (I also love double entendres), and is invisible within the context of a story. The last thing you want to do is draw your reader’s attention away from the narrative’s eroticism by using words like: crotch cobra, fuckpole, crack hunter, swizzle stick, etc. All are metaphorically viable, but erotic? I don’t think so.

You KNOW this isn’t the cock I was referring to.

There are fewer words to describe the female genitalia, but my preference is pussy or cunt. As with cock, there are any number of ridiculous synonyms for it, but I prefer to use adjectives to describe a woman’s pussy such as soft, hairy, shaven, etc.

Recently, I was on a trip with my best friend celebrating our birthdays. We went to Niagara-on-the Lake, wine country, and stayed at a lovely inn. We took pictures of everything in sight. She even insisted I take a picture with my pussy—as she called it. Though I was reluctant, I figured no one would mind. Thankfully the room was empty at the time, so I kneeled down, took a hold of my pussy and she snapped the photo.